Marigold

Seeing this movie is a bit like falling in love for the first time... and having your heart broken for the first time. A great structure that most of the time follows the separate, but in many ways related, fates of siblings Guillaume and Charlotte, a cleverly chosen indie soundtrack, fantastic acting, graceful filming... and a wonderful finale that will change the mood of the protagonists, but combined with a disillusioning sibling storyline, will create an unmistakable bittersweet and fleetingly enchanting experience.

I am incompatible with the new DC films; in fact, I am specifically allergic to their tone. Momoa is a nice guy, but as soon as Wan steps on the pedal and the camera pulls him in to the sound of guitars, I lose the last bit of interest in the character. And I have even less interest in the modest underwater people. This universe is not for me.

Berlinger failed at this. In the documentary The Ted Bundy Tapes, he painted a very detailed portrait of a psychopath / uncertain poser / media star who perfectly enjoys the position of a manipulator. In the film, he immersed himself quite clumsily in one of the episodes from the life of the serial killer and tries to build a story whose perspective will be that of light enchantment. The film thus portrays Ted as he saw himself - as an irresistible sovereign, a romantic fugitive, or a charming star who lights up in front of the camera. Zac Efron nails this aspect of him with pleasure, which unfortunately sometimes borders on campiness (the scene where Ted escapes from the Colorado courthouse and walks down the hippie macho street is more like a B-movie comedy). The arc of the film has a clear tendency to shock by reversing the perspective in the last minutes, but it only works at the cost of a lot of cheap reduction and posturing. As a director, Berlinger is no great psychologist, and in fact the scene with the dog barking and demonic glances through the bars smells of a lack of a killer’s skills on the part of the creators. At the same time, there is no denying that the character of Liz (a victim that Ted did not physically harm) could be very impressive elsewhere... but here, she is so passive and purposeful that she cannot be taken very seriously. Bundy is a fascinating character at the very moment when he manages to penetrate behind the mask of the American dream. The documentary was able to deftly remove it, whereas the film gets a little drunk on it.

These bastards made a petrolhead out of me. Not at all by filming a show about cars, but because they are filming one of the funniest and best-hosted formats in contemporary TV (Conversation Street FTW). They have perfected their roles over the years. They took the most useful stuff from Top Gear, unfortunately except for Stig. Almost all of the Amazon novelties flew overboard during the three seasons, and in that (probably definitely the last) only the essence remained - a trio of white, rich aging men, who are mentally age eight and are morbidly attached to their penises. And of course, they are well aware of it. They manage to reflect the absurdity of contemporary ideologies on both sides of the barricades with ease and a sense of edge (special fish for Zimbabwe are one of the all time tops). From total contempt, respect was first born in me, and then I became a fanatical fan. In the final episode, I shed a tear for diesel...

I stopped watching formula racing ten years ago, because I found it about as exciting as watching darts. But that doesn't mean I'm not touched by a documentary about Frank Williams or James May composing a homage to Jim Clark. This fantastically edited and staged documentary lit a fire under my ass. I also enjoy the trainings, because if Drive to Survive teaches us anything, it's that the race is just the tip of the iceberg. The context and behind the scenes are fascinating. Well done!

Not as good the second time, sometimes very bad. Michael is not the protagonist. It is a bad women empowerment template covered with endless bouts of crying and clichéd outbursts. Is Spock supposed to learn from her? Come on! The climax of helplessness is the episode where a character dies, whose role until then was about as important as the role of the handsome bangs of Captain Pike. But for some reason, during the work in question, the creators remembered that they neglected it a lot, so they try to build the impression of loss – through screaming and a lot of ostentatious phrases. Few characters here work on a different principle than the irritating tension between predominance and annoying mischief. Exceptions: (sometimes) Pike, Spock, the badass Chinese MILF and the useless grandmother played perfectly by Tig Notaro. The showrunners should be required to watch an Expanse marathon to see how realistic sci-fi is done. The battles are still nice, there are ideas here, but with all the attempts to update the Star Trek mythology, it still seems like the unruly Janek of the Stars.

A film about how an imperfect replica is desperately trying to get closer to the unrivalled original. I really didn't need to hear that Han Solo is based on the most run-of-the-mill cherchez le femme and a shabby heist. Unfortunately, Solo is a symptom of what SW could become if you continued this trend: a useless story generator and a silicone equivalent. It fills in the gaps, but it doesn't look particularly nice.

If I were to look at it as a separate film, then I would have reservations about the lengthiness of the first (dramatic) third. God forbid, I could get bogged down in the time paradoxes of the second third, and God forbid I could be offended by the sentiment of the final third. But The Avengers are in a category for themselves, and blaming them for not being coherent doesn't make much sense. The films combine so many characters, positions and partial motifs that I can't think of a better solution than the similarly conceived 182-minute catharsis. If we start to see Endgame as a season finale, everything suddenly makes perfect sense. The focus on the key characters in order to give their existence absolution, the way in which elements of nostalgia (Endgame is a matrix of memories of previous films) are humorously inserted into the action, and even the epic climax that has the emotional impact of a falling meteorite. There is a feeling that there is a plan behind everything, which is so lacking in DC. The individual pieces fit into a jigsaw puzzle, and if you want one example, use Thor. I don't expect ground-breaking thoughts, formal stimuli or psychological depth from Marvel. I expect satisfaction. If anything comes after Endgame, it's a feeling of pleasant satiety. It may not be a generational Star Wars caliber event, but it's still more than a dignified end to hours of fun and years of honest work. If Nolan's Batman showed us that a super protagonist must be human to the point that he ceases to be super, the Avengers insist that he can be both. It may be naive, but it is uplifting.

Who is on the wrong side of S. Craig Zahler's new film? The whole world, as usual. A slow-burning heist / police story / buddy romance without emotion, Shotgun Safari in slow motion. Emotionally, it is the Coen Brothers meet Lethal Weapon in an alternative reality, where cruelty knows no bounds and fate is hungry for the blood of innocents. Zahler is one of the few filmmakers who can claim the title of original and visionary. The previous Brawl in Cell Block 99 was somewhat more of a compelling, radical, immersive monster, but watching Mel Gibson for two and a half hours in one of his best roles amounts to great satisfaction. Plus, I value another Sy Ableman feat. Fred Melamed with Jewish gold.

I would like to write a few kind words about The Dirt. No, it's not good. But hand on heart, do you really think that a film about MÖTLEY CRÜE, which was also produced by the band and based on the books of all four members, can be good? The result is a glam metal Bohemian Rhapsody mixed with The Wolf of Wall Street; a film about the fact that whatever happens, a band is mainly a family. Compared to Bohemian Rhapsody, there is more fornication, squirting, snorting coke from asses, shooting up heroine, running without pants, demolishing rooms, licking urine by the pool, showing their anus in public... The main first half is fun, and Madman's revelation from the land of Oz is one of the highlights. In the second half we get some emotion, which is about as convincing as when a drama about the death of a child is shot by the exclusive director of Jackass. The film probably won't get an Oscar, although it's edited better than Bohemian Rhapsody and the wigs are just as ridiculous. It will also not convince you that MÖTLEY CRÜE is a good band. But the fact that glam was a bovine mutation of metal, and that these four guys felt it authentically, can be believed. God Bless the Children of the Beast!